


The Offer

by Lady_in_Red



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Canon Continuation, F/M, Gen, One-Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2018-02-05 09:01:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1812769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_in_Red/pseuds/Lady_in_Red
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After escaping Lady Stoneheart, Jaime and Brienne continue to evade the truth. Hyle Hunt has had enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Offer

Ice crunched under Jaime’s feet and branches creaked above him as he walked through the forest of the dead. After hours suffering the stench of rotting corpses, they’d finally traveled far enough from the cave that these bodies were older, already picked over by carrion eaters.

Too weary to continue, they had been forced to stop for the night. Ser Hyle had stayed with Brienne and Pod while Jaime circled back to make sure they weren’t being followed. The icy wind helped cover their tracks, scattering leaf litter across the frozen ground. The wind also  muffled his footsteps, but would hide pursuers as well. Jaime could only hope the chaos following the second death of Lady Stark would stop the Brotherhood from chasing after them for some time. Brienne had killed at least two men as they’d fled, Ser Hyle and himself more. They’d all taken wounds, the worst a blow to young Pod’s head. 

After several long minutes scouting the empty woods, Jaime returned to their makeshift camp against a large rock. When he heard voices, Jaime stopped, screened from view by trees. Hunt was supposedly a knight. He should know to keep his voice down. Had the Brotherhood found them already?

Jaime crept closer until he could see the camp. Hunt was crouched in front of Brienne, who leaned against a large rock. Pod was curled up beside her, shivering in his filthy clothes. He’d fallen asleep as soon as they’d stopped walking.

“—the truth, Brienne. You owe me that much.” Hunt’s voice was a harsh rasp. 

Brienne’s eyes were wide. “We swore to return her daughters,” she protested. 

“Lady Stark is dead, as are the vows you swore her,” Hunt said. “Let me take you home to your father. I would wed you and fill his halls with children.”

Jaime knew he should reveal himself, but he wanted to know how Brienne would respond to the hedge knight’s proposal. While Jaime had often wondered where she was, he’d never considered she might find another man to share her travels.

“I refused you before. Why ask again?” Brienne sounded so weary. 

“I hanged for you,” Hunt said pointedly.

“You hanged because you served Lord Tarly," she corrected sharply, irritation overcoming exhaustion. "And I came back. I hardly owe you a marriage.”

Hunt stiffened. “Who else will wed the Kingslayer’s whore?” 

“You would not dare repeat that lie,” Brienne stuttered. 

“I won’t need to. Those men will scatter, and they will tell that story in every tavern from Fairmarket to Lord Horroway’s Town. Tales grow in the telling. By the time Lord Selwyn hears it, they’ll be saying you were caught fucking him.”

Brienne only glared at Hunt. Clearly he was not above using foul rumors to his advantage. She did not seem to care much for the man, yet they'd traveled together for some time. 

Hunt sighed, ran one hand through his grimy hair. "It need not be that way, my lady. Why not leave this thrice-damned place and go where no one wants to hang us? I don’t care if you’re no maid.”

Ser Hyle’s words cut all the deeper for their sincerity.  _ Kingslayer’s whore. _ That title was already taken, and not by Brienne. That had not stopped the Brotherhood’s taunts.  _ “A woman that ugly must thank the Seven any man would fuck her. No wonder she won’t stop bleating his name.” _ Jaime’s lunge at that man had cost him his golden hand and earned him a painful blow to the ribs.

Brienne’s face was aflame. “I’ve not—Ser Jaime is a knight of the Kingsguard.”

Jaime wanted to shake her. Even now, her first thought was to cite the honor of the Kingsguard? Jaime had thought his sworn brothers so lofty when he’d first joined their ranks, but then as now they were only men. Men who obeyed orders to beat children, listened while their queen was raped, and sometimes returned to their pristine white tower stinking of roasted men. 

Brienne recoiled when Ser Hyle touched her uninjured arm. He spoke more firmly. “Lannister is not free to keep any promises he might have made you. At best, you’d be raising bastards in the shadow of the Red Keep. You could have so much more.” 

The White Book recorded Kingsguards who had taken lovers and fathered children, but none of them had also bedded the queen. No matter how many men Jaime’s twin had welcomed between her legs, Cersei would never abide him taking a lover. If her spies brought word that Jaime had sired a child, the babe would meet the same ugly end Robert’s bastards had suffered, likely on the queen’s orders. Jaime pushed the thought from his mind. Brienne as anyone’s mistress, much less his, was ridiculous.

"Yes, a husband who merely tolerates me, and children taught by septas to disdain me.”

Hunt shook his head. "With another man, perhaps. Not me."

Brienne looked pained. "Jaime earned my loyalty without pretty words or false promises. Some men keep their vows."

The hedge knight nodded. “Aye, my lady, some do. But not the Kingslayer.” 

Jaime did not care to hear any more. He was strangely touched by Brienne’s faith in him, misplaced as it was with his bastard son on the Iron Throne. Yet she’d counted on his faith in her when she’d lied to him. No matter that her lies had been obvious. The Hound was dead. Everyone knew that. Her desperation had been real, and Jaime had allowed his sympathy to overrule his instincts. 

When he’d seen Lady Stoneheart and her captives, Jaime had understood. Brienne would never betray anyone for her own sake, but there was far too much blood on Jaime’s hands for Brienne to allow an innocent child to die in his place.

“Make a bit more noise. I don’t think they heard you at Riverrun,” he said sharply as he walked back into their makeshift camp.

Hunt stood abruptly. “Ser.” 

At least the man still remembered how to address a commander. Jaime nodded to him.

Ser Hyle settled back on the ground on Brienne’s far side, much too close for Jaime’s comfort. Brienne eased away from Hunt. 

Jaime took the first watch. He sat apart from the others, envious of how Brienne drew Pod closer to share her warmth. Jaime was freezing, but at least it kept him awake while the others dozed.

As she surrendered to sleep, Brienne’s eyes opened now and then, unfailingly seeking out Jaime. Did the wench think he would leave them, now that they’d escaped? 

No, Jaime would lead them to his troops, and some measure of safety. The Lannister forces should be marching west to join Daven’s men at Riverrun. If Jaime could find the River Road, they might meet his men by midday. 

After a while, the cold alone was not enough to keep Jaime alert. He stood, walked a few paces into the trees. The frigid air numbed his face and forced him to shove his remaining hand under his surcoat for warmth.

Jaime had no doubt what he would dream of, should he sleep.

That cave was not the first in which he and Brienne had faced the unquiet dead. While the details had mercifully faded not long after he’d woken, Jaime remembered standing naked in a dark, wet cave, Brienne guarding him against the wrath of Prince Rhaegar and his sworn brothers, while her sword and her eyes blazed with blue fire.

Her sword had not burned before Lady Stoneheart, but Brienne had defended Jaime all the same.  _ “He played no part in the Red Wedding. I was with him, I swear, may the Stranger take me, Jaime is innocent of this.”  _ Her face had flushed crimson and tears had filled her eyes as the Brotherhood jeered and cursed, but Brienne had never spoken a word in her own defense, only his. It was hard to despise her when she’d pled so fervently for his life. 

Jaime had seen enough madness to recognize it in what had remained of Catelyn Stark. They would have all died, no matter what Brienne said, and he’d known with certainty that the wench would not raise a hand against her liege lady. 

So Jaime had. Lady Stoneheart had fed the flames, and in the ensuing chaos the four of them had fought their way out into the night. Jaime’s ribs ached and a shallow cut on his right arm stung each time he moved, but they’d been lucky to escape.

That they all lived should surely have given Brienne some comfort, but the Maid of Tarth grieved just as she had the first time her lady had died. She hadn’t spoken a word during their flight, her eyes unfocused and her expression blank as they’d stumbled through the forest. 

Sending Brienne alone into the middle of a war had been thoughtless, Jaime could see that now. Four moons after she’d left King’s Landing, the Stark girls were still missing, and Brienne had been gravely wounded. She was certainly not the same determined, stubborn girl he’d dismissed so brusquely from his chambers, lest she thought her regard mattered to him. 

The Brotherhood’s insistence that Jaime had bedded Brienne had been infuriating. His thoughts had strayed to her more than they ought to have done, but he’d never spent so much time in the company of any woman except Cersei. He’d been apart from his twin for so long, surely his thoughts of Brienne as a woman were born of circumstance. Oathbreaker and kingslayer he may be, but Jaime was not in the habit of despoiling maidens. He wouldn’t start with the woman who’d led him through the Riverlands in chains.

Back then, Brienne had clung stubbornly to the tales and songs of her youth. The perfect knight, the Maiden, and an enchanted sword. Jaime had believed in it all too, before he’d been knighted and learned that even the Sword of the Morning and Barristan the Bold sullied their white cloaks. Neither of them was so naive now as to believe that Oathkeeper held any magic but that given it by Brienne’s own hands. 

Jaime looked up from the three bodies huddled against the dark rock, to the bare branches reaching skyward. Where was that bloody comet? Such a portent would be fitting. Once they reached Riverrun, Jaime’s task would be completed. The Riverlands were burnt and barren, but they were no longer in revolt. Was anywhere in the Seven Kingdoms left untouched by this thrice-damned war? 

Jaime tried to remember better times, but his mind showed him only Brienne on her knees before Lady Stoneheart, Tyrion’s scarred face twisted with loathing, and Cersei’s poisonous smile. 

The moon had moved well across the sky when Jaime shook Hunt’s shoulder to wake him for his watch. The man snapped awake quickly enough. 

Jaime moved away from Brienne and Pod. He wanted a word with the hedge knight before he could sleep.

Hunt followed. “Did you hear something?” he asked.

More than Ser Hyle knew. Quiet, careful not to wake Brienne, Jaime asked, “How did you meet the Maid of Tarth? She never mentioned you.” She hadn't told Jaime much about herself, but Hunt need not know that.

Hunt watched Jaime warily. “We met in Lord Renly’s camp. When I saw her again in Maidenpool, I decided I’d had enough of Lord Tarly.”

Hunt’s eyes darted to Brienne as he said this. Would she contradict his story?

“One of my bannermen may have some use for you when we reach Riverrun,” Jaime suggested, eager to be rid of the man.

Hunt gave Jaime a shrewd look. “And what of Brienne?”

Jaime misliked the possessive note in Hunt’s voice. “Lady Brienne will get the care she needs. There are maesters with my men and at Riverrun.” 

The dark-haired man leaned close, his disgust evident beneath the yellowing bruises on his plain face. “What does that make her, your camp follower?”  

Jaime grabbed Hunt by his tunic and shoved him hard against a tree. For the first time he missed the golden hand. “The last knight who insulted the lady in my hearing paid for it in blood and teeth.” 

Hunt grabbed Jaime’s right arm, squeezing until Jaime winced and released him. “I’ll take my chances,” Hunt snorted, putting some distance between them. He eyed Jaime thoughtfully. “I thought you were Lord Renly all over again, but Renly would never have followed her. Why did you?”

_ Because she lied to me and I had to know why. Because I think of her more often than I should.  _ “That is between Brienne and myself.”

Jaime expected that to end the conversation, but Hunt didn’t back down. “Aye, the shining knight and his maiden not-so-fair. Or is Brienne the knight and you’re the maiden? I can’t quite remember how this tale ends, but you did give her a sword covered in gold lions and rubies: a weapon and a favor.” The dark-haired knight smirked at Jaime. “You made her into a thrice-damned song. How could she resist?”

“Valyrian steel is no favor.” Jaime’s hand clenched into a fist. Brienne could never mistake Jaime for the heroes of song and legend. She knew him too well. 

“No? It marked her a lion just the same.” Hunt lowered his voice, forcing Jaime to draw closer to hear him, but before Jaime could protest that it hadn’t been his intention, Hunt continued. “When Brienne was delirious with fever, she called your name half a hundred times. She nearly died for you. Brienne needs a husband and an heir, yet all she wants is the man who sent her off alone to die.”

“Tarly dismissed you, didn’t he? He doesn’t take kindly to men who don’t know their place. Neither do I.” Jaime was done explaining himself to this man, and Brienne had suffered enough in his company to provoke a thousand nightmares.

“Find the Stark girl yourself,” Hunt spat. "Let me take Brienne home, if you truly don’t wish her to die on this mad quest.”

Jaime watched the surrounding trees for movement. “What do you hope to gain? Tarth has little wealth.”

Hunt smirked. “Brienne’s still a highborn lady under that mail. Lord Selwyn will be reasonable, even if she will not. No better man will wed her maimed and branded a whore.”

“Brienne is no whore,” Jaime snarled. 

Hunt’s face fell suddenly, and his eyes focused over Jaime’s shoulder.

Jaime turned to find Brienne leaning against a tree, glaring at them. “Are you two quite done deciding my fate? I’ll make my own choices.”

Annoyance flashed across Hunt’s bruised face before he covered it. “Accept my offer. We could be on Tarth in a moon’s turn.” 

“My answer hasn’t changed, ser. If you persist, when my arm is healed, I will teach you the same lesson I gave my last betrothed.” 

“Lesson?” Hunt asked. Either he did not hear the warning in Brienne’s voice or he did not care.

“Ser Humphrey wanted me in silk, so I faced him in armor.” 

Jaime laughed. “I’ve seen you in silk, wench. Armor is an improvement.”

Even exhausted and wounded, a small smile lit her face as she turned her gaze on Jaime. “I broke his collarbone and two ribs. He broke our betrothal.”

Jaime shook his head. “I would have liked to see that.” Her father must have been furious.

“You’ve seen me fight.”

How Brienne managed to sound both proud and modest, Jaime wasn’t sure. “You tried to drown me,” he reminded her.

“You tried to kill me,” she countered with a shrug. 

Hunt laughed, a harsh sound. “I offer to wed you, maid or no, and you would break my bones. Lannister insults you, calls you ‘wench,’ and you fondly recall trying to kill each other,” he said incredulously. “Forget my proposal, Brienne. Follow the Kingslayer into the seven hells, warm his bed, it’s no concern of mine.”

Hunt turned his back on them and walked away into the dark woods. The hedge knight would come back, Jaime was sure. The prospect of attaching himself to a household in the Westerlands would be too tempting to ignore, and they were still too close to the cave for Hunt to risk traveling alone. 

“To think I only had to fend off Lysa Tully. You’ve escaped Hunt, Connington, and Ser Humphrey,” Jaime said lightly, attempting to distract Brienne from Hunt’s accusations. 

“How do you know about Connington?” Brienne asked, flushing a deep red. 

“He was with my men at Harrenhal. He may have learned a lesson as well. One long overdue.” The memory of Connington bloody at his feet was still more satisfying than Jaime cared to admit. 

Hurt flashed across Brienne’s broad face, startling him. “Connington was hardly the first to point out the charms I lack, nor was he the last. You needn’t defend me.”

Jaime blew into his fist to warm it. He wasn’t trying to upset her, but somehow he always managed it.  Jaime dropped his voice so Hunt could not overhear if he returned. “You defended  _me._ I heard you. Why shouldn’t I do the same?” 

Brienne’s eyes shone in the moonlight. “It’s not the same. She was going to kill you.”

“Yes, but she might have spared  _ you  _ if you’d had some sense,” Jaime explained, exasperated. Why must she be so willfully stupid about this?

“Was it sensible to let you die?” Her eyes were blazing, bandaged face twisted with disgust. 

“Yes, you stubborn fool. You can’t throw yourself in front of everyone who would do me harm.” If not Lady Stark, there were plenty of men in Westeros who would happily kill Jaime Lannister, and few would mourn him.

Brienne glared at him. “I left Renly. I won’t run away again,” she insisted, voice breaking.

“Renly was dead, Brienne,” Jaime said gently. Three kings had died on his watch, and he hadn’t mourned any of them. Brienne was different. Renly’s death, and then Lady Catelyn’s, had scarred her deeply. 

“I swore to die by his side.” Her voice was barely a whisper now, tremulous. For a moment Jaime saw past her mail and large frame. Beneath it all, Brienne was still a maiden who had foolishly loved her king. 

Jaime closed the distance between them, but thought she might balk if he touched her. “You swore to give your life  _ for  _ his, not throw yourself in his grave. Your precious Renly wouldn’t have wanted that any more than I do.” That mulish look returned to her face, and he softened his tone. “Promise me you’ll never be so stupid as to offer your life for mine again.”

Brienne’s expression hadn’t changed. “It was my fault. I brought you there.”

Jaime’s gaze darted from her face to the rope burn around her throat. “You didn’t cripple her son. You shouldn’t suffer for my crimes.”

Brienne’s hand gripped Oathkeeper’s pommel resting on her hip. “We swore a vow, Jaime.”

He searched her blue eyes, once the only part of Brienne he’d admired. “You wouldn’t break it even if I begged, would you? Even if it meant never seeing your home again? Never wedding, never giving Tarth an heir.”

Brienne shook her head. “I have a quest, a squire, a sword. That’s enough.”

Jaime understood the weight she carried. His white cloak grew heavier every day. “It’s our quest. I would come with you, if you’ll have me.” 

He hadn’t meant to say it, had barely thought it before the words left his mouth. But she already had him, as much as anyone did. How swiftly he’d followed her was proof of that. Neither of them should be putting the other ahead of their duty, and yet Brienne had pleaded for his life with Lady Stoneheart, and Jaime had abandoned his troops. He didn’t understand it, but this felt right in a way nothing else had since he’d freed Tyrion from the black cells.

Brienne stared, waiting for Jaime to laugh or jest. Finally she nodded. Without a word, Brienne returned to Pod’s side, checking the boy over like a nervous mother. 

If Jaime were a true friend, he would send her home. Brienne would go if she knew of the Golden Company’s raids along the coast. Lord Selwyn would surely thank the gods and arrange a match as swiftly as he could. Jaime could picture Brienne in an unbecoming gown, flushed with embarrassment, suffering the indignity of a bedding and the pain of some lordling taking his pleasure of her. 

Which was worse, an unhappy marriage or freezing to death searching for Sansa Stark? Hunt walked back into the clearing, and the sudden hardness in Brienne’s gaze told Jaime which she had chosen. She’d given up on marriage when she’d spurned Hunt.

Exhausted, Jaime leaned against a tree, watching as Hunt carefully avoided looking at his companions. 

Brienne glanced up at Jaime. Whatever she sought, she found it in his gaze, relaxing at last as she tended to Pod. 

Neither she nor Jaime could lay down their burdens, but the weight would be easier to bear together, wherever their quest took them.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Miss_M for reading this twice (and being honest that it needed work!), and for the summary.


End file.
